


A Little While

by anastasiapullingteeth



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Police Brutality, but it's light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-13 19:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10520190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastasiapullingteeth/pseuds/anastasiapullingteeth
Summary: Five times Combeferre took Grantaire’s hand for purely professional reasons, and one time he did it with something else in mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, almost four months of hiatus... Here's something fluffy and light-hearted to make all of us feel better.
> 
> P.S. Big shout out to [placna](http://placna.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for cheering me up when I wasn’t motivated enough to write. You’re the greatest :3

**I.**

Grantaire was a short guy. Not that short, mind you, he was about 5'7’’, but he stood out among his friends by being one of the shortest, only a fraction taller than Jehan. He was used to it, obviously - it wasn't like he could magically grow taller by force of will -, but he always made a point of discussing with that motherfucker giraffe that was Enjolras only when they were sitting, not because he was intimidated, but because it hurt his neck and the comedy of the scene was anticlimactic. Nevertheless, he was a proud man, or pretended to be, and his friends had learned the hard way it was better not to mess up with him; he knew how and where to throw a punch if he needed to. Unfortunately, being short had its disadvantages, like getting lost in the middle of a big crowd. And that was exactly where he was, standing like a scared child in a sea of people.

Enjolras had sent him downtown to pick up some documents a reporter was going to lend them. Grantaire had volunteered to run the errand just to piss Enjolras off, but hadn't expected the blond to actually listen to him. The distress on Grantaire's face must've been quite obvious because Combeferre offered to go with him. Grantaire hadn't thought anything about it at first; Combeferre was committed, and he was probably more worried about getting the papers than protecting Grantaire from Enjolras fury, but he was grateful either way. That was until Combeferre decided to vanish from his side, leaving him behind.

The other man had been walking in front of him, leading the way as he usually did when certain blond wasn't around, when they reached the main street and a bunch of people exiting a store crossed between them. When the path cleared enough for Grantaire to see ahead of him, Combeferre was gone. He kept walking, cursing himself for not paying attention when Combeferre said where they were heading to, and considered going back to the subway, although he wasn't sure of how long it'd take the other man to reunite with him; getting back to his home wasn't even an option: if Enjolras found out about it, he was screwed. Completely lost in his thoughts, he didn't see the man moving fast towards him until he collided against his chest.

"Oh, my God. I finally found you!" Combeferre said, resting a reassuring hand over Grantaire's shoulder.

Grantaire could barely hide his surprise at seeing Combeferre there. He'd come back for him, but why? "Damn," he whispered. "And here I thought I was making a good job at hiding from you," he joked to calm his own, unexpected nerves. He made sure Combeferre saw his smirk and, judging by the other man's loud snort, he'd succeeded.

"Yeah, well. Not that good, it seems," Combeferre said, playfully, looking around as he pushed Grantaire to the sidewalk. "We're almost there," he commented more to himself. "But I think this wasn't the best time to come here."

Grantaire knew exactly what he meant.

The streets were completely crowded. Everywhere there were people coming in and out of stores, and it was impossible to get on the busses or walk comfortably down the streets; there was no way they'd manage to get to their destination together. "Just tell me where to go and I'll see you there", Grantaire proposed.

He saw Combeferre shaking his head before taking Grantaire's hand in a firm grip. "Here", he said. "This way I'm not going to lose you again."

Grantaire was going to argue that his idea was better but the sudden heat spreading over his face was kinda distracting. Instead, he let the other man drag him through the crowded streets until they arrived at the big building where the reporter was already waiting for them. Combeferre didn't take his hand again on their way back, but Grantaire conviced himself not to be too disappointed about it.

 

 

 

**II.**

One of Grantaire's less favorite things about the activist group was having to attend the rallies they organized. He hated those, truly hated them. They almost always went well, but he'd become paranoid after a memorable night when they'd been sent to jail after the police intercepted their protest. Grantaire didn't feel at peace during the protests and being surrounded by that amount of people was unsettling.

Enjolras and the rest of the guys had been working on a particular event for weeks. Grantaire's participation was exclusively creative at the beginning, designing flyers and such, but after Bahorel had practically blackmailed him into joining them during the march, he'd offered to hold a sign with some political statement he hadn't even bothered to read. If he was going to do it anyway, he'd do it all the way through, dammit.

After a long two-hour walk down the main street, the group had stopped in front of a monument of some guy where they'd planned to proceed with the speeches. Enjolras climbed up to the statue's feet and took the bullhorn Courf was handing him, while both he and Combeferre stayed down at the base, flanking the statue. Courfeyrac trained his eyes on Enjolras, focusing all his attention on him once the blond started to speak. Combeferre, on the other hand, was looking at the crowd, scanning their surroundings with worry.

Not exactly aware of why, Grantaire stared at Combeferre for a long time, until the bespectacled man locked eyes with him. Grantaire felt his face warming up but didn't look away. He thought, for a moment, that maybe Combeferre had the same fear as him; fear of getting caught, or of someone - most likely Enjolras - getting hurt. He wanted the other man to know that he understood, but above all, he wanted to see in Combeferre's eyes that he, Grantaire, had nothing to worry about, that they would be fine. Combeferre smiled at him then, but his eyes, previously focused on Grantaire's, diverted to some spot at the end of the street. A deep frown contorted his features and Grantaire rushed to look in the same direction.

A large group of cops was approaching them with their shields on a defensive position. It didn't seem they were there to cause trouble, but in a business like that, no one could be really sure. Combeferre kept watching them during Enjolras' speech, and his frown didn't waver one bit; by the time Enjolras was done, the cops were blocking the street that leaded to the governor's office, which was, coincidentally, their next stop. Enjolras jumped off the monument and gathered all the members of the activist group to discuss their next move. Grantaire thought that was pointless; they all knew what the blond would do next.

"We'll stick to the plan. They can't stop us from protesting against what's wrong."

And with that, the congregation marched down the street, signs and voices up in the air attracting everyone's attention; by the look on the cops' faces in the front row, the confrontation was inevitable. Everything after that happened in a blur: The cops moved forward, trying to encapsulate them in the square, forcing the people to either step back or try to escape through one of the adjacent streets. Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac were at the front, leading the crowd, and barely a few steps away from the cops. The armed men lifted their shields and got the tear gas bombs ready to be thrown at the people. When Enjolras saw them, he immediately told them to stop and used the bullhorn to address the entire group.

"Everybody, disperse!" he shouted at the time the first bombs reached the front of the mass of people.

Grantaire froze where he stood, scared eyes trained on the blond disappearing behind the clouds of white smoke. Someone took his hand in the middle of the fuss and pulled at it, but Grantaire didn't move until he heard Combeferre's voice right in his ear.

"He'll be fine", the taller man assured. "Feuilly went after him. Come on, we gotta get out of here." Grantaire hesitated for a second before following Combeferre, who refused to let go of his hand.

They moved between the people as best as they could, helping whoever they found in their way. Every time Combeferre was forced to release his grip on Grantaire's hand to aid someone, he did it with a reassuring squeeze, and every single time he resumed his handholding as quickly as possible, as if he were genuinely scared of losing him. Later on, when the entire group was back at their office healing their wounds and recounting the damage of the protest, Combeferre would randomly squeeze his hand for a brief moment every time he found himself in the seat next to Grantaire.

Grantaire was pleased when he noticed it was happening quite a lot during the night.

 

 

 

**III.**

The first time Bossuet told them he was dating a rock star, none of them had taken him seriously. The young man was a jokester and everybody knew he was dating Joly, anyway, who just happened to be a pediatrician. So, no. When Bossuet showed up at their office announcing he had tickets to his girlfriend's gig, they had taken it as a joke, but accepted to go anyway. No one in their right mind would say no to free concert tickets. And so, that weekend, Grantaire went along with his friends to a local bar where an all-women band was going to play a charity concert.

The place was big enough to accommodate around 500 people, but their group had been the first to arrive and had won a good place close to the stage - which Grantaire was grateful for, since he always found it hard to see when there were a bunch of tall people in front of him. When the bar was completely full half an hour later, the lights went down and a big searchlight pointed at the center of the stage. An eye-catching figure with incredibly curly hair stepped on the front playing the guitar, giving start to the concert.

There were only three young women in the band: a blonde who played the bass and had the two biggest green eyes Grantaire had ever seen; a dark-haired woman with a tattoo sleeve playing the drums; and the singer, whose toned legs in network stockings were, quite frankly, breathtaking. They were incredibly talented and soon the atmosphere was charged with energy. Grantaire almost popped a boner when he heard them singing.

Half way through it, the crowd began to dance and jump along with the band, creating a form of chaos Grantaire adored, but wasn't exactly "equipped" to affront with dignity. The mass of people kept moving in all directions, pushing him a little bit to the back until he was in the middle of the room, surrounded by jumping figures that blocked his sight; at some point, he honestly felt afraid for his life.

He grunted and tried to make his way back to where he'd last seen his friends, but felt a hand taking his arm. He barely managed to stop his elbow from hitting the other person straight in the nose when he saw it was Combeferre. "You gotta stop doing that, man," he warned; the hit had been really close to connect.

"Sorry," Combeferre apologized, but he was smiling. "Are you okay here or would you like to move to the side?"

Grantaire opened and closed his mouth without uttering a word, once again taken aback by Combeferre's interest in him. The people around them were still dancing and jumping, pushing him a little closer to the other man - or so Grantaire preferred to think; it was easier to blame those strangers for how he was now standing in Combeferre's personal space. "Getting out of here would be nice," he said, but regretted it immediately when he caught up on how that must had sounded from the outside. "I mean. Out of this crowd, not out of here, here. With you. Wait! No, I will go with you, but here. In the bar."

Combeferre smirked - something new in him -, and took his hand like he'd done a couple of times before. "Come on," he prompted and Grantaire followed blindly.

It was a real advantage Combeferre was tall, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to exit the crowd in one piece. Once in the safety of the perimeter, Grantaire leaned against the wall where he had a nice view of the stage, if only a bit sideways. He'd expected Combeferre to leave him alone and go back to the from where their friends seemed to be having a good time, but instead, he saw him shifting his weight before standing comfortably next to him. "Bored of the music already?" Grantaire asked conversationally.

Combeferre laughed, shaking his head. "No... But I think I'll stay here with you a little while."

Grantaire didn't object to that and lowered his hand to tap the rhythm of the music on the wall behind them. From that new position, he could feel Combeferre's hand close to his; if he stretched his fingers, he was sure he could hold it. Now, he didn't take a moment to think why he'd wanted to do that, but brushed his fingers against the back of Combeferre's hand anyway. He hid his blush when the other man didn't hesitated before tangling his fingers with Grantaire's.

None of them made a comment about it, and almost didn't notice when the singer, named Musichetta, dedicated the last song to her boyfriends, Joly and Bossuet.

 

 

 

**IV.**

Grantaire had never taken a moment to consider how much of his time he spent with Les Amis de l'ABC, the activist group, until he found himself standing outside the subway, waiting for them, so they all could go to a party the band from the other day had invited them to. He probably shouldn't be surprised of how quickly they'd become acquaintances, considering two of their friends were in fact dating the frontwoman, but still, he couldn't quite believe they'd been invited to their party.

He saw Jehan and Bahorel walking around the corner and waved at them lazily. It didn't take long for the rest of their friends to arrive, even Enjolras, who wasn't all that excited. "It won't be that bad," he heard Courfeyrac claiming as they entered the station. "In and out, remember? We don't want them to think Joly and Bossuet's friends are a bunch of jerks."

The house where the party would be held belonged to Cosette, the band's bass player. It wasn't that far away from Les Amis' office, but the only way to get there was by subway, on some of the most transited stations. The amount of people waiting for the train when they entered was overwhelming, and Grantaire could sworn he saw some of the guys walking backwards, as if they intended to flee; Grantaire himself would've gotten the hell out of there, if only the promise of free alcohol wasn't so alluring.

At the end none of them ran away, but had to wait about half an hour to board a wagon. The people pushed their group to the back and Grantaire discovered, secretly amused, that Combeferre had ended up standing in front of him, while Grantaire had his back pressed against the side of a seat. "Sorry," the taller man said, blushing slightly.

Combeferre was doing his best not to touch him, but as the people got in and out of the wagon, he was forced to move closer to him. It'd been a couple of weeks since the incident at the bar, and things had continued surprisingly normal between them, although Grantaire was convinced Combeferre was avoiding him to some extent. He wasn't rude or anything, but Grantaire had the feeling he felt restless around him.

Inside the wagon, some asshole nudged Combeferre out of his way, pushing him into Grantaire's space. His hand fell heavily on the seat behind Grantaire; he felt ashamed of the intensity with which his eyes had followed Combeferre's hand, thinking - or maybe hoping - he was going to take him by the waist. No such luck, though; the hand remained firmly in place. The position was very intimate, though, and Grantaire tried his hardest not to enjoy it too much.

"The next one is ours," Joly announced when the train stopped in a station. "Everyone, get ready."

"I can help you to get out of here, is that okay?" Combeferre offered.

Grantaire nodded enthusiastically and Combeferre reached for his hand. It was too early to be having their fingers intertwined, but Grantaire wasn't complaining; when the train finally came to a stop in the right station, Combeferre pulled his hand and made their way through the crowd.

Outside wasn't that bad; the hallways weren't exactly empty, but it was easy to walk through them. Combeferre looked down at their joined hands, uncertain, but Grantaire didn't let him decide and began to walk, tightening his grip. By the time they reached their exit, the street outside was almost empty and Grantaire couldn't think of any other excuse to keep holding Combeferre's hand. Apparently the other man was thinking the same and, reluctantly, broke the contact.

They walked in silence behind their friends, until the group reached their destination.

 

 

 

**V.**

Cosette's house was beautiful; its antique finishing and big, impressive windows where an interesting contrast with the black and studs covering the party goers, but what Grantaire was more amazed about was the garden where the party took place. There were a bunch of people already enjoying the drinks and the music, but the bushes and trees had been decorated with lights that allowed them to see the extent of the yard. Grantaire's bitter mood lightened up a bit before the beauty in front of him.

"Welcome, boys!" Cosette greeted them. "I thought you'd stood us up!"

"It was the subway!" Marius rushed to explain, causing an awkward silence between them that only intensified the man's blush. Cosette smiled politely and invited them to eat and drink as much as they wanted. Joly and Bossuet excused themselves to go look for their girlfriend, while the rest dispersed around the yard. Grantaire didn't need much convincing, and the first thing he did was helping himself something to drink. Once he found a nice place to stand under a tree, he looked down at his free hand, pensively. He could still feel the warmth of Combeferre's hold and the tingles it'd caused in his stomach. He refused to acknowledge the implications of that, or what exactly they both were doing, for fear of tricking himself into believing Combeferre's gestures meant something.

Grantaire himself wasn't sure what he wanted from the man, only thing he knew was he longed for his touch, to feel his fingers wrapped around his own protectively... He shook his hand, trying to push his thoughts away, and sighed exasperated. It was just some meaningless handholding, nothing to get work up about.

He was finishing his drink, already planning on getting another one, when he detected a small flaw in his plan. In his haste to get away from all the people, he'd managed to put the entire dancefloor between him and the table with the booze; he could surround it, but his thirst was slowly driving him to the shortest and, therefore, fastest way: right through the crowd. He convinced himself it was worth it.

From the edge of the dancefloor, he caught a glimpse of Combeferre standing not too far from him, submerged in a deep conversation with Enjolras and Courfeyrac. Grantaire's inebriated brain wondered, for a moment, how pathetically helpless he should make himself look in order to get the man's attention. Did it have to do with him getting safely through the crowd? Absolutely. It wasn't like he'd enjoyed having him that close in the subway, or the warm feeling that spread inside his chest every time Combeferre looked at him. It wasn't about that. Even so, he gathered courage from the empty bottom of his solo cup and approached the group, aiming for Combeferre.

"But it's great!" Enjolras was proclaiming when Grantaire stopped next to them. Combeferre and Courfeyrac turned to welcome him with a smile; Enjolras didn't even blink, completely absorbed in his ranting. "Don't you get it? Pop punk it's mostly a platform for white, high key misogynistic, stright kids. Just imagine being a woman and a fan when a 90% of the songs talk about how much these losers wanted to own them, and how much they hated them after they said no to their advances. A nightmare! Musichetta and the others are contributing to change that. They're realist, and upfront, and it's. It's just. So. Awesome."

"Is he drunk?" Grantaire murmured to Combeferre.

"Yep. And even in that state he has better arguments than all of us," Combeferre said, fondly.

"Well, I think I need at least another round before I can engage in this conversation. You... wanna join me?" Grantaire asked, tapping his fingers nervously on the solo cup.

Combeferre looked surprised for a second but, after exchanging a quick glance with Courfeyrac, he nodded. "Okay... I think I'll bring him some water, too," he commented, pointing his head in Enjolras' direction.

Grantaire started walking and Combeferre followed him, but stopped when he caught up on the path Grantaire had chosen. "It'd be faster this way," Grantaire answered Combeferre unspoken question. After a brief hesitation, Combeferre redirected his steps to the dancefloor.

"You're not trying to trick me into dancing, are you?" Combeferre asked, looking terrified.

"No. I'm not drunk enough to do that, either."

"Okay, good." They walked into the crowd, but the farther they got, the harder it was to stay close to each other. Before they reached the center of the improvised, wooden floor, Combeferre grabbed his arm, preventing him from keep on walking; Grantaire intended to hide his victorious smile, but failed monumentally. "There are a lot of people in here," he said to Grantaire's ear. "I can barely keep track of you."

"Then take my hand," Grantaire proposed, mischievously.

"Excuse me?"

"Then take my hand," he repeated easily.

Comprehension crossed Combeferre's eyes as he looked intently into Grantaire's own. He'd discovered Grantaire's plan but, somehow, didn't seem mad. On the contrary, he nodded and accepted the hand the other man was offering. "This is better," Grantaire heard him say before squeezing his hand fondly.

They crossed the dancefloor and approached the table packed with a large variety of drinks. Just like in the subway, they no longer had a valid excuse to maintain their hands joined. This time, though, neither of them made a move to break the contact and so they spent a good portion of the night randomly holding hands, saving an explanation to anyone that threw them questioning glances.

They saved an explanation to themselves, too. At least for now.

 

 

 

**\+ 1**

Alcohol was the worst adviser. Or so Grantaire thought the following days when he fell into account of what he'd done. He couldn't believe he'd hold Combeferre's hand all night. And in public! He'd shown vulnerability in front of people he barely knew, one of which was currently asking him if he and "the hot dude with the glasses" were dating, making Grantaire's embarrassment 120% worse.

"Calm down, dude," Éponine, the chick that played the drums in Musichetta's band, said exasperatedly on the phone. "It's not like you had sex. Stop being so dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic, I'm being realistic!" Grantaire cried. "What am I supposed to tell him now? And the others! They saw me, too! What am I going to do?"

"Ask him out."

"Can't do that. Wait..." Grantaire mumbled. "Wait! Why am I even telling you this?! I met you, like, a week ago," he reproached, mad at himself for over-sharing with a complete stranger that only God knew how had gotten his number.

"More like a month ago," Éponine corrected, helpfully. "And you're telling me this because you know I'm going to give you the best advice: Ask him out."

"But I can't! Are you aware he only took my hand because, well, _he had to_?"

Éponine snorted loudly; Grantaire wanted to hang up out of spite. "Right, because standing there doing _nothing_ required hand-holding. Please..."

"I was drunk."

"But he wasn't."

Good point, Grantaire had to give her that. "Maybe he thought I was going to fall face-first if he let go."

There was no sound in the other side, and Grantaire could almost feel the eye rolling that, undoubtedly, was happening there. "Hey, I have an idea that could be beneficial to you," she said when the man didn't try to break the silence.

"I'm not going to ask him out."

"You won't have to. At least not directly."

"I'm listening..."

"Cosette and I are going to a museum this weekend. Maybe you and the guys can come with us. We can try to allure his nerd ass with weird and totally cool art."

Grantaire made a mental note of not thinking about Combeferre's ass, but it was becoming harder - no pun intended. He cleared his throat soundly. "And how would that help me? Everyone else will be there, too." he protested.

"That includes me, and I'll make sure you two stay alone. You can talk to him and tell him how you feel."

Grantaire grunted, covering his face with a hand while still holding the phone. Why was he even listening to that woman? Even if he managed to get Combeferre alone, what would he get out of it? He wouldn't be able to say what he felt and, even if he did, when Combeferre said no - because he would say no - he wouldn't know how to look at him in the eyes ever again. "Fuck it," he said, because apparently he had no self-preservation instincts. "I'm in."

 

If the visit to the museum would've been a real thing and not Éponine's artful plan, it should be considered a total disaster. Only four people showed up, besides Éponine and Grantaire themselves: Cosette, Enjolras, Jehan, and, thankfully, Combeferre. The rest of the gang had work to do or other personal matters to attend to and had to decline. For the plan's purposes though, it was absolutely perfect.

When they entered the place, Grantaire almost forgot why he was there, captivated by the art. He didn't noticed when they split up in pairs until he caught himself talking excitedly to Jehan. He scanned the place and spotted Combeferre a few steps away with Enjolras. Grantaire was about to send Éponine a panicked text, but she looked so enamored holding her girlfriend's hand that he decided not to bother her; he'd go with the flow and enjoy the rest of the trip.

As they kept moving through the rooms, Grantaire made a promise of bringing Feuilly next time, no matter if the guy had work to do, he'd drag him to that exposition. He stopped in front of a beautiful painting to take a picture stealthily and send it to Feuilly; when he lifted his eyes from his cellphone, Jehan was nowhere to be found. He looked around for him, but he was alone, except for one person: Combeferre.

"That's a nice painting," the bespectacled man commented, standing next to him.

"Yeah..." Grantaire stammered. "It's cool."

Combeferre smiled at him. He looked so good in that stupid cardigan, with his hands inside his pockets, completely relaxed, that Grantaire couldn't stop staring at him. He had to force himself to look back at the painting to avoid coming across as a creep, and it was maybe because of that that he didn't see when Combeferre pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached for his; Grantaire certainly felt that.

"Hum... There's no one else here." he said, dumbly. What a way to blow up his chances.

"Hmm, it seems like it," Combeferre commented casually, as if he'd just noticed, but didn't let go of his hand.

"Oh..."

"Is it okay?" he asked, suddenly unsure.

"It's perfect."

Combeferre rubbed his thumb on the back of Grantaire's hand, tightening his grip as he shortened the distance between them. He trapped Grantaire's hand in both of his and scoot closer. "I've meant to ask you since that time in the subway, but..." he trailed off. “You think I can kiss you now?"

The brush of Combeferre's lips on his own sent thrills of excitement down Grantaire's spine and he had to grab the lapels of the other man's button up shirt to bring him closer.

 

By the end of their tour, they decided to go for a coffee only the two of them, instead of following their friends. As Grantaire waited for Combeferre to place their order, he sent a text to Éponine.

_> thanks, it worked just fine_

Éponine's response came in immediately after.

_< What?_  
_< I didn't do anything, he just disappeared. You both did!_  
_< What happened?!_

Grantaire stared down at the text, surprised. If Éponine had nothing to do with it, that meant Combeferre had followed him on his own will... Had he planned it? "Is everything okay?" Combeferre asked, handing him his coffee and taking the seat next to him.

Grantaire put his cellphone aside, leaving Éponine's text unanswered, and let his hand fall fondly on Combeferre's thigh. "Yeah, I'm fine."

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write one of these so, challenge completed?
> 
> ... I can't believe I managed to write something for the pure joy of seeing two dorks falling in love. No angst, no smut... Incredible.


End file.
